


Give Me a Reason

by VoidofRoses



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Established Relationship, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, established Snufkin/Moomintroll, fae folk little my, moomintroll is clueless, spring fae snufkin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-16 13:31:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18692479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidofRoses/pseuds/VoidofRoses
Summary: “Funny. You weren’t too keen on laws when we broke the forest spirits out of the Park Keeper’s pen, little brother.”Snufkin tries to keep his identity a secret, but this close to winter, it’s a little impossible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really do love the idea of spring spirit/deity Snufkin, so I think this is the first of a few more chapters. Not sure how many, I make shit up as I go along. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

There was an old folk tale that said Autumn seduced Winter to make Spring.

The story went that Autumn and Winter had come across each other at the forest king’s party, and one had been instantly smitten while the other took time to reciprocate. By the time they had, the two were so keenly in love that the unseelie king decreed them soulmates, and they should never be too far apart.

But Winter had to travel south to bring the season with the Lady, and while he was gone, Autumn had given birth to a bouncing baby who caused flowers to spring wherever he stepped, thus his name. Autumn, however, had many other children and duties to attend to, so, in a strange turn of events, she shipped him off to his father in a basket, floating down the river.

He never made it to Winter, and was instead doomed to wander for the rest of eternity, bringing Spring wherever he went but never knowing why he travelled south.

Snufkin watched, idly playing with his pipe as Moomintroll recalled the folk tale that Moominpappa had read to them. The two friends reclined back on the grass down by the bank, shadowed by reeds and Snufkin’s fishing pole jammed between two rocks down by his feet to keep it steady. Moomintroll sighed, looking up at the clouds drifting over them in the sky.

“Poor Spring,” the troll said, his fingers twining on his stomach as his tail curled over his hip.

“Mmm it’s a sad tale.” Snufkin closed his eyes, one arm relaxed behind his head as his other pulled his pipe from his mouth so he could blow smoke from it. On his other side, fresh flowers grew from underneath him, before he used his pipe hand to smother them down. He placed his hat on his face, leaning back into the grass.

“I wonder if he’s still out there, looking for his father Winter but never knowing why,” Moomintroll mused, sitting up and splaying his fingers in the grass, playing with it. “He must get lonely.”

“I’ve told you before, Moomintroll, some people don’t mind the solitude.” Placing his thumb under the brim of his hat, Snufkin tilted it up to look at the boy with a small frown before he smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure he has friends somewhere that he goes back to.”

The troll’s ears perked forward at that, looking down at his companion. “Like us, you mean?” Missing the way Snufkin’s eyes widened like his heart had skipped a beat, Moomintroll giggled, tail swishing about behind him now. “I hope he has fun with his Moomintroll then.”

Snufkin smothered his own face with his hat, muffled voice coming from underneath it as he swallowed. “I’m sure he does.”

Thankfully, Moominmamma’s voice came calling over the fields and Moomintroll stood, leaving an indent in his previous spot. “Do you wanna join us for some lunch, Snufkin? I’m sure mamma made plenty.”

“Give me a moment to sort out my fishing rod.” Pushing his hat back from his face, he watched the other boy run up the hill excitedly before sighing, frowning to himself as he looked at the river. Close. Too close. Snufkin reeled his line back in, propping it against his closed bucket, and turned to trudge up the hill behind him.

“Are you going to tell him?” Little My’s voice seemed to come from nowhere, bodiless, before she poked her head out of his cauldron at his camp, leaning over the side. She eyed him, her own tail perked in the air behind her as she lazed there like a cat.

“Of course not,” Snufkin snapped, palming his face with a paw. “I know the law.”

“Funny. You weren’t too keen on laws when we broke the forest spirits out of the Park Keeper’s pen, little brother.” The smaller faerie picked her way out of his cauldron, a noise leaving her as she did so. Snufkin watched her walk over to him with her arms behind her head, tilting it before she pulled a hand forward to inspect her claws. “I won’t tell on you if you decide to. I don’t much like the law that we have to be quiet about who we are myself.”

The spring fae looked up the hill to where Moomintroll was waving his hand, overly excitable as usual. He snorted, closing his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to go get myself some food.” It wasn’t an offering but it was offered freely to him, so it wouldn’t be against the rules. But then again, that was just the kind of people the Moomins were.

Little My watched after him, a thoughtful look on her face as her tail swished behind her. Her spine tingled with anticipation, but for now she decided to skip that, instead following shortly after Snufkin and sitting on the other side of the table, simply inviting herself. The both of them had their reasons for keeping silent on their true nature, but it wouldn’t be long before one of them spilled the beans.

The bed of flowers that Snufkin had accidentally made in his anxiety straightened itself, blooming next to the bed of grass that Moomintroll had left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was how the Mymble came to find him passed out on her couch, several of her younger children bouncing around him and on top of him.

Joxter had not set his eyes on this house in well over a decade.

The seasons needed changing regularly, much like sheets, and it was considered cursing the region for a mumrik to stay in one place too long. The forest king might have deemed them sweethearts, but he and the Mymble both knew that she would not settle simply for one man, nor would he settle for simply one place. They had parted on amicable terms, her in her turtle back house with her children and he on foot, flurries of snow swirling about around him.

Besides, Hodgekins had had a sign on the door that said don’t enter, and of course Joxter was never one to let signs rule.

He had traveled with the inventor for a while, before they split off into separate places, and he didn’t know where the Muddler had gotten off to with the Fuzzy, nor where Moomin had gone. Joxter once again found himself traveling alone, sometimes evading capture by myth hunters and policemen alike, othertimes simply enjoying the company of the Lady of the Cold.

Tilting his red cap, Joxter hesitated upon seeing the Mymble’s turtle nestled in the sand, his tail swishing behind him. It was late in the season for autumn to still be hanging around, and though Joxter could feel the sun’s glare getting stronger year by year, it made little sense that one couldn’t fall upon an old lover.

That, and he’d sprained his wrist. There was no setting his tent up for a few days.

That was how the Mymble came to find him passed out on her couch, several of her younger children bouncing around him and on top of him.

When Joxter finally woke up, hours after seeing himself into the turtle house, his red hat had been stolen from over his face, and as he rubbed at his eye with his good paw, he caught a glimpse at himself in the mirror over the couch, finding his face covered with marker pen. He rubbed some of it off his cheek, grumbling when he realised it was mostly all over, and heard soft footfalls, calling out to her.

“Mymble, your children are atrocious. Can’t an injured old man get some sleep?”

Hearing her soft laughter, he turned his head to frown at her, though his breath was cut short when it hitched in his throat. Despite the faerie children at her hip and around her feet, she was still just as beautiful as when he’d seen her the first time at the forest king’s party. The Mymble smothered her laughter with a hand, her antennae twitching on top of her head as she lowered the child in her arms down and shooed them off. The many scampered away and off, to crooks and crannies that Joxter could only imagine, and she revealed a wet cloth in her hand. She kissed his forehead, reaching to help him rub some of the marker off.

“I missed you too, love.” The Mymble was a jolly woman, watching him wince and bat her hand away only to take the cloth for himself. “I would think that you would have experience with children.”

“Why in Tapio’s name would you think that?” Joxter washed his face on his own terms, feeling the warmth of the cloth slowly turn cold in his paws. “We don’t all have a dozen rug rats running around after us, Mym.”

She frowned, taking the cloth from him when he offered it back to her, leaning up to full height. “Did you not receive him, Joxter?” At the confused look on his face, she sighed, massaging her temples. “Our son. Did you not receive him?”

Joxter’s face turned pale, his pipe nearly dropping from his paw when he went to fetch it from his pocket and he tilted his head to look at her. “Son?” His mouth was dry, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he stared at her. “Our...we have a son?”

“Why yes. Mymbles are known for being very fertile after all.” The taller woman rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I must have sent him downstream...a year ago?”

“Seventeen years ago, mamma,” came the helpful reply of one of the older children, a young woman now, her sibling’s hands clutched in her skirts.

“Ah yes, thank you, Brigette.”

Joxter felt as though he couldn’t breathe, his hands clutching at the couch underneath him and claws digging into the furniture. Mymble looked as she heard a tearing noise, her brow furrowing in worry when she saw the ice start to form under his paws. “Joxter?”

“Mymble, you know...my trips freeze the rivers.” He raised a hand to run it through his hair, looking off to the side where her children were tearing up the house. “Wherever I go, there’s no flowing water.” At her confused look, Joxter raised his voice, standing. “ _You sent me a son where I had **no means to receive him**_!”

Several of the children started wailing when his voice turned into a panicked shout, ice spreading from his feet and around. Mymble, finally realising her mistake, placed a hand to her mouth, her other paw clutching her dress. “Oh...oh no. Joxter...Joxter you know I’m so absent minded...”

“A dozen children at a single time would do that to someone, Mymble,” he ground out, paw dragging down his face now as he inhaled, trying to get a hold of his powers. The ice dragged back into him, seeping underneath his feet and disappearing from the claw marks in the couch, his tail lashing angrily behind him. Of all the idiotic...

“Well no wonder he doesn’t ever want to see me when I’m in Moominvalley.” Mymble sighed, shaking her head. “That boy, honestly...”

Joxter’s ears seemed to perk at that, his lashing tail stilling as he looked at her with surprise. “Then...he’s alive?”

“Oh, well of course.” She blinked at him before she realised his misdirected thoughts and giggled. “What did you think, silly? Yes yes, he’s in Moominvalley for more than half the year before he goes south for winter. No wonder you haven’t met him, you keep missing each other!”

The winter spirit groaned in frustration, dragging his paws down his face. “You’re sure? You’re sure it’s him?”

“Yes, dear. Mymlan writes about him to me in her letters.” Mymble placed a finger to her chin. “Now what...oh yes, he’s chosen to name himself Snufkin rather than Spring.”

“Snufkin.” Joxter tasted the name on his tongue, rolling it over like tasting jam. Picking his hat from one of her children’s heads, he turned away, placing his paw on the door, other paw picking up his sack. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Where are you going, dear?”

“Moominvalley.”

And that was how Joxter found himself standing at the top of the Lonely Mountains around three months later, looking down at the valley that seemed to go on forever until the next lot of mountains. Making his way down the path, he saw an elderly Hemulen, raising his cap to him. “Excuse me, good sir.”

The Hemulen looked up from where he was examining the patch of flowers along the main path, other paw fisted in his skirts to keep the river stream from getting the hem wet. “Hello, can I help you, young man?”

“Is this Moominvalley?”

The Hemulen looked at him with some confusion before chuckling to himself. “My apologies, I thought you were one of the youngsters. Yes, this is Moominvalley. Are you here to see someone?”

Joxter inhaled sharply. The old man had mistaken him for someone. That meant that his son had to be here. “Yes. Yes, someone I haven’t seen in...well, a long time.”

“Well, chances are you’ll find them at Moominhouse.” The Hemulen used his magnifying glass to point towards the tower in the centre of the valley, so far from here that Joxter had to squint to follow his gesture. “Just follow the path until you come to a river bridge, then up to the garden. I’m sure Moominpappa and Moominmamma would be able to help you out.”

“Thank you, Mr...”

“Just Mr Hemulen’s fine.” The old collector tilted his head, humming. “Yes, you are indeed just like him. Tell me, sir, are you perhaps related to a young lad named Snufkin?”

“I’m his father.” That sounded so weird to say but somehow so right. He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. “But I’m afraid I haven’t been much of one.”

Mr Hemulen looked at him with a raised eyebrow before shaking his head, tapping his magnifying glass to his chin. “He’s a good lad, young man. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

For some reason, Joxter’s heart seemed to flutter at the praise for his son. A good lad. That was all he could have hoped for. “Thank you. I’d better...” Mr Hemulen shooed him off and Joxter practically ran down the main mountain path, paws clutching at his sack.

His son. He was going to meet his son for the first time.

\---

Snufkin sneezed.

“Bless you,” mamma said, passing him his pancakes.

“Must be catching a cold,” he said as he rubbed his nose with the sleeve of his raincoat, neverminding that as a spirit it was basically impossible. Little did he know of the winter spirit coming down the Lonely Mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Joxter and Mymble talk for the first time in seventeen years and Snufkin is about to meet his dad for the first time :o what’s gonna happen next? Who the fuck knows. Leave a review if it pleases you and look forward to the next chapter :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin gave him a gentle smile and cast his gaze back to his fishing line. He still hadn’t told him the truth, that he needed to travel south because he was the fae of the season of spring itself. He didn’t know if he ever would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for all the nice reviews and comments! You truly are a gift <3 Have the next chapter.
> 
> A small note: I changed it from slow burn to already established because I felt dealing with one plot element was difficult enough than to deal with multiples. Hope you all understand :)

Winter was coming.

Snufkin could feel it in his bones with absolute certainty, tilting his head and shielding his eyes from the sun to look at the top of the mountains that surrounded the valley. It was a bit early for the season to start, and in that case he should already be well on his way south by now.

“Is something wrong, Snufkin?”

“Do you feel that chill on the air?” He looked out the corner of his eye at the troll as Moomin blinked at him, lowering his hand. “I’m afraid that autumn is almost over.”

Moomin’s ears drooped a little as he took that in, looking down at the water trickling underneath the bridge that they sat on. “Does that mean that you’ll be leaving soon?” The mumrik hummed as he cast his line again, fishing rod between his hands. “Then...these are our last days together.”

“You know I can’t stay,” Snufkin turned his head to look at Moomin as he heard him sniff, reaching to brush the back of one hand across his cheek. “I’ll be back.”

“I know you will.” He gave him a watery smile nonetheless as he rubbed a paw against his eyes. “I’ll just have to go into hibernation sleep so that I get to see you sooner.”

Snufkin gave him a gentle smile and cast his gaze back to his fishing line. He still hadn’t told him the truth, that he needed to travel south because he was the fae of the season of spring itself. He didn’t know if he ever would.

“By the way, have you seen the other tent at the edge of the forest?” Moomin blinked when he noticed the look on Snufkin’s face at the question. “It’s been there since a few days ago. I don’t know why someone would be camping so close to winter.”

“Maybe they’re adventurous like me. You know I like to leave things a bit late,” Snufkin suggested, tilting his head and withdrawing his line from the water, once again with no fish attached.

Moomin gave him a shove and laughed, remembering the incident on the Hattifattener’e island that ended in him with wet fur and the both of them drenched from head to toe. That had been the first time the young troll felt his heart flutter when he saw Snufkin taking the towel from mamma, dripping wet face illuminated by the candlelit lantern as he took off his soaked hat.

Oh how far they’d come.

“Well I think that’s enough of that for now.” Snufkin gathered his fishing rod and bucket together, not minding the shoulder punch that Moomin had given him as he stood, shouldering his line. He looked at his boyfriend, raising an eyebrow and clearing his throat. “Did you...did you maybe want to spend the night under the stars with me before I go?”

Moomin’s eyes widened and his ears perked at the offer. “S-sure. If that’s what you want to do, Snufkin.” His tail wagged a little behind him as he stood, cheeks flushed at the idea. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to.”

“It was my suggestion, silly little troll,” he said with a laugh as they turned to begin walking towards Moominhouse. “I’ll help you if you need a few things.”

“Well...I was planning on giving you something before you left, so I guess tonight will be as good a time as any.” At the bewildered, flushed look on Snufkin’s face, it was Moomin’s turn to laugh, shaking his head. “Mamma’s been teaching me how to knit, so I could make you something to keep you warm during your travels. What did you think I meant?”

The mumrik sighed in relief, running his fingers through his hair as his blush died down. “Nothing, nothing at all, Moomin.”

Reaching the porch, Moomin turned his head to see his father on the back verandah, sitting in his usual chair. Opening his mouth to hail the older troll, he stopped short when he saw he was with someone that he didn’t recognise. The person was lounging in the other chair as mamma served tea, pipe dangling from mouth and tail tilted in the air. He looked far more...wild? Moomin wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but he had fuzzy black hair coming down the sides of his face from his head top, and pappa’s laughter came as the result of something that he couldn’t hear.

“Moomin?” He glanced back towards the front door where Snufkin had his hand on the doorknob, looking at him expectantly. It was his house of course; the fae knew that he was always welcome but he still hesitated.

“You go on in,” he said, reaching to swipe his thumb over his boyfriend’s nose and bringing his paw away to show him. “You should at least wash up before you go.”

Snufkin wrinkled his nose at the thought of a bath before he sighed and inclined his head. “If it will make tonight sweeter, love,” he said with a roll of his eyes, earning another light hearted punch. “Alright, but I’ll be out soon for you to show me my present.”

Moomin beamed at him and waved him in, turning when the door shut and running around to the back. Moominpappa perked when he saw his son, setting down his teacup and looking positively boyish without his top hat on. “Ah, Moomin! You’re just in time.” He gestured to his son, then to the person sitting across from him. “I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine. I think...now yes I remember. You remember the stories that I told you from my memories, right?”

“Yes, pappa.”

“Jeez, Moomin, the kid’s the dead image of you,” the man said, head in the palm of his paw as he lazily nibbled on one of mamma’s butternut cookies.

“Oh you think so?” Pappa looked pleased to hear that, his ears perked and tail wagging behind him as Moomin came to stand on the verandah. “We do often get mistaken for each other if I’m without my top hat.” He turned his head to his son as he stepped closer. “Moomin, this is my old friend Joxaren.”

“Please, Joxaren was my father’s name.” He tilted the red hat on his head, raising it slightly. “Just the Joxter is fine.”

“Ah.” Moomin’s eyes widened and he bowed his head slightly. “I’m very pleased to meet you, sir.”

Joxter’s face looked unreadable for a moment before he let out a yowl much like a cat, turning his head to glare daggers at pappa. “What?”

“Don’t you dare,” pappa scolded, wagging his finger at him.

“I was only going to make one joke,” he whined at him, scowling deeply as he brought his foot up to rub at it with a paw. “I’m injured enough already, leave an old man alone.” Joxter huffed, though he clearly didn’t mean it, his eyes shining with something that Moomin recognised in pappa’s eyes sometimes, especially on adventures.

“Oh, you’re injured?”

“Silly thing travelled with an injured paw for three months,” Moominmamma scolded as she set something down in front of him in another mug, tutting at him. “I don’t know what he thought it was going to do. Luckily grandma’s grimoire had just the recipe.”

Joxter grimaced a bit at the concoction, sniffing as he rubbed his paw underneath his nose, looking at Moomintroll imploringly. “Help me escape, kid, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Moomin shook his head. “Uh-uh. Grandma’s recipes are really good. I’m sure your paw will heal in no time if you take it.”

“It’s not that he’s worried about,” Moominpappa said with a chuckle that sounded almost sinister. “It’s the bath afterwards.”

“Oh, well he’ll have to wait anyway. I sent Snufkin into the bathroom to clean up before his trip south.”

Joxter seemed to fall silent at the sentence, and when Moomintroll looked at him again he could see the expression on his face, the way his fingers clenched around the cup of grandma’s homemade remedy. He blinked a bit when he thought he saw ice forming on the cup, but it was gone just as quickly. Joxter swallowed, the sound audible. “He’s...Snufkin’s in there, you say?” At Moomin’s nod, he brought the remedy to his mouth and tilted his head back, swallowing it all in one go.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Well, my boy.” Pappa looked at Joxter, who nodded his consent as he swallowed the medicine down and made a face at the taste before hurriedly drinking the rest of his tea. “It would seem Joxter is your young friend’s father.” Oh. Oh so that was why he looked so much like him. Moomintroll’s tail began to wag, beginning to look overly excited before pappa raised his hand, quieting him. “I don’t think Snufkin knows.”

Moomin’s gaze dropped as he got hold of himself, shaking his head. “He told me he was found in a box.”

“I came from Mymble’s house to here as quickly as I could,” Joxter rasped out as soon as he could speak, thumping his chest a little with his good paw. “It took me a while to find Moominvalley. It’s not exactly on any maps. I had to follow word of mouth, and that’s especially difficult.”

“I insisted that he stay with us for a while until his paw heals, but he said he has a tent set up already,” Moominmamma said with a sigh as she closed her handbag, placing a roll of bandages on the table.

“Huh. I guess you really are like Snufkin.”

“Who’s like me?” The voice caused the Moomins and the mumrik to turn their heads as the door opened, the Snufkin in question appearing with a towel around his shoulders and a loose shirt and trousers on instead of his usual raincoat. “I hope you don’t mind, mamma, but I used your tub.”

“It’s no problem at all, dear.”

Joxter stared as he stood from his seat, meeting his son’s gaze and taking him in. Head to toe he was mumrik, though there was far less fur on him than there was on Joxter - possibly the mymble in him. A tail swished behind his legs, his eyes slitted slightly as he regarded the old man in front of him. Moomintroll moved out of the way at pappa’s gesture, watching the way they sized each other up.

“Do I know you?” Snufkin asked, frowning deeply before gasping as though out of breath when the older mumrik wrapped his arms around him, feeling ice creep along his skin.

“I’m your father.”

The world exploded in a burst of flowers and a flurry of snow at the same time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something that Little My had long since come to accept as big sister instincts kicked in when she opened one eye and saw the explosion of flowers and snow from the edge of the verandah roof, her expression changing from one of laziness to one of horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s super pumped about writing this fic? This dude. Guess who wanted to get the next chapter out as soon as possible? This dude.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for their reviews overnight <3 this one’s for you.

Little My was minding her own business for once.

Sure she’d chased off the mailman and effectively ruined her sister’s morning picnic with Too-Ticky by popping in uninvited, but for once she really had been minding her own business after it got too lovey-dovey for her. The verandah roof was the perfect vantage point to oversee her kingdom from, and she lounged back with her arm behind her head, eating an apple that she’d snagged from Moominmamma’s tray when she went past underneath.

She didn’t quite care for her mother’s various lovers, and the Joxter was no exception. Love wasn’t something the little mymble was interested in. Moominpappa’s discussion with him floated up from underneath, and then Moomin’s voice had come, cheerful as ever. Ugh, she could doze off from the snorefest happening.

She nearly did, had it not been for Snufkin.

Something that Little My had long since come to accept as big sister instincts kicked in when she opened one eye and saw the explosion of flowers and snow from the edge of the verandah roof, her expression changing from one of laziness to one of horror.

What had that idiot man done?

Without a second thought for her own safety, the small fae pawed her way down the roof and swung off the edge, boots first, to effectively kick the Joxter in the face, causing him to loosen his grip on Snufkin and the sudden burst of magic to disappear as he rubbed his muzzle with a paw, ignoring the gaping mouths of the trolls around them.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

Snufkin dropped to his knees as soon as he was let go, paw clutched to his chest and gasping for air as Little My landed next to him, placing her hand on his back and rubbing it. The colour that had drained from his face returned slowly as she scowled at his father, huffing. “You idiot!” she growled, her tail lashing about behind her angrily. “You should have known close contact would literally _drain the life out of him_!”

“Pleasure to see you too, Little My,” Joxter groused, bringing his paw away to see if there was any blood from the imprint of her boots. He then made a face and sighed. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just...”

“Now hang on a second,” came Moominpappa’s voice, causing both fae to still in their talk, Snufkin still gasping for air like a fish on dry land. “Joxter didn’t mean anything by it, I’m sure, but most importantly Snufkin needs to go lie down.” He turned his head to his son, who blinked for a moment before starting, his tail standing straight behind him. “Why don’t you go take him inside, son? You too, mamma.”

“I’m going too,” Little My snapped, helping Moomin and mamma get her brother into a standing position by taking hold of the back of his legs. She sniffed. “I don’t particularly feel like being under the same roof as that man.”

Besides which, Snufkin might need some help explaining their situation now that the cat was out of the bag (literally).

Joxter watched them take the boy inside, Moominmamma splitting off from the teenagers to go and get a fresh cloth and water. He raked his good paw through his hand, looking thoroughly miserable. “I just wanted to give my boy a hug.”

“I know, Joxter.”

“I really had forgotten that my powers could possibly drain him.”

“I know, Joxter.”

He sat heavily back down in his seat, kicking at the dead flowers and snow underneath his feet and burying his face in his paws as Moominpappa returned to sitting across from him. “I’m such an idiot.”

“I know, Joxter.”

He scowled at Moominpappa and picked up some snow to throw at his friend across the table. “You’re not supposed to agree with me on everything, Moomin!”

Using his top hat to deflect the snow, pappa chuckled to himself. “You have to admit it was very clever of me.” Pappa looked at him reflectively, his tail swaying lightly behind him. “You should know I’ve never told anyone your secret. Not even mamma.”

Joxter gave him a small smile, his creased brow showing his age. “I appreciate that. Does that mean your boy...?”

“Didn’t know about Snufkin and Little My? Mmm indeed.” Pappa lit his pipe, leaning back in his chair and drumming his fingers on the table. “It’s easy to put two and two together when you know, but Moomintroll’s always been a little slow at picking up hints.”

“Well it wasn’t until I literally created a snow storm in front of you that you believed me yourself,” Joxter snarked, earning another kick under the table. He looked over his shoulder at the door, brow creasing further in worry. “I should go. I’m obviously not wanted here.”

“I wouldn’t pay Little My any mind,” Pappa said, puffing smoke from his lungs, his own frown appearing. “Are you going to keep your tent at the edge of the forest?”

“I’m not sure.” He pursed his lips together, holding his paw out for the pipe and taking a puff when he was given it, closing his eyes. His chest ached as much as his face, just in a different way. “I’ll stick around for a while to make sure winter comes but...”

“Snufkin will approach you on his own terms,” Moominpappa said reassuringly, reaching across to pat at Joxter’s free paw. “If I know anything about the lad, it’s that he likes his own space and will come to you eventually.”

Joxter smiled at his old friend, though his advanced hearing could pick up the sound of Moominmamma fussing over his son inside and some very, very small part of him wished it could be him. He stood from his seat, handing Pappa the pipe back, paw going to pick up his red cap. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Anytime, old friend.” A mischievous smile crossed Moominpappa’s face. “Mind you, this doesn’t get you out of a bath before we hibernate.”

“Drat.”

\---

The ringing in Snufkin’s ears faded as he stirred, eyes fluttering open and finding Moomin’s concerned face looking down at him, realising his head must have been in his lap. He raised a paw to his forehead, feeling the wet cloth across there.

“He’s awake, mamma!”

“Not so loud, love,” he said with a wince, voice raspy as Moominmamma came over, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Oh thank goodness. You certainly gave us quite the scare, dear.”

“It was that idiot’s fault,” Little My groused from the back of the couch, lounging there behind Moomintroll’s head. “Winter drains the life of things that get too close; even mother had a hard time being coupled with him back in the day.”

Snufkin’s face paled, which was amazing considering how much colour hadn’t returned to his skin since he passed out. He glanced at Moomin, who was carding a paw through his auburn hair. “M-Moomin, I...”

“It’s okay.” The troll gave him a gentle smile. “You can tell me yourself later if you want. Just know that I don’t care what you are, you’re still Snufkin.”

The spring fae reached for the paw in his hair and pulled it down, squeezing him gently and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Thank you, for being so understanding.”

“Ugh you two are gonna make me sick.”

Snufkin half heartedly swiped at his older sister, who danced out of his reach and cackled, leaving the house through the window as Moominmamma brought over two bowls of soup. “This should warm you up proper, dear. Grandma’s recipe.”

“Thank you, mamma.” With a helpful push from his boyfriend, Snufkin sat up, leaning against Moomintroll when it felt like he was going to be dizzy, his tail twining with the other’s. “What did Little My tell you?” he asked conversationally as the soup was sat in his lap, cradling it with both hands as Moomin took his own from his mother.

“The basics,” he said, blowing on his spoonful and sipping it up. “I think I understand, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

How lucky he was, to know such a kind soul like Moomintroll. “Well it all began at the forest king’s party...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a reminder that you can interact with and ask me things over at my tumblr @genderfluidsnufkin


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know about the mymble side of my family. I’ve never known my mumrik side.” He looked, finally, at the Joxter. “I want to know about you.”

“What are you going to do?”

Snufkin looked over his shoulder towards where Moomintroll sat on the bed of his attic room, his paws in his lap. He’d allowed Snufkin time to think after the exhausting afternoon that they had happened to have, sitting there quietly while he made the finishing touches to the knitted gift that he’d made for him. The time spent in silence allowed him to think about things as well, things that made his head hurt and his heart race.

His boyfriend was the fae of spring, born from autumn and winter’s embrace. It explained so much; why Snufkin wouldn’t let him travel south with him, why spring followed after him hot on his heels. The secrecy and the lies didn’t bother Moomintroll. Snufkin was technically not allowed to speak of it, so it wasn’t his fault.

“I don’t know,” Snufkin confessed, turning his head to look out the window again, his eyes watching the line of smoke from the camp at the edge of the forest. “I’ve never known my father, and for someone to suddenly show up and say they’re him...” He looked down at his hand where it was resting in the windowsill, turning it over to run his thumb over the pad in the middle of his paw. “I would have been inclined to disbelief if it hadn’t been for his little display.”

Moomintroll bit the end of his thread after tying it off, setting the needle aside in the pin cushion and holding his project up. A warm, mustard yellow quilted blanket unfurled from his grasp, close to matching the colour of Snufkin’s scarf, and he nodded to himself, folding it up into his arms and standing from the bed, the squeaking floorboards moving underneath his feet as he closed the distance between them. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he said, paw reaching for his boyfriend’s upper arm. “You could just leave. Go south.”

“Pretend everything was normal?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the troll as he looked down, placing his own paw on the blanket that he held. “I’m not sure if I could do that, love. You’re not even hibernating yet.”

“I’ll be fine.” A lie, but Moomin was used to trying to convince himself that everything was alright. “Besides, it wouldn’t be pretending. It would just...be. You’re spring, and he’s winter.” He looked out the window out the corner of his eye at the smoke plume, then turned his attention back to Snufkin who was doing the same. “I don’t know how it works. I won’t pretend to remotely understand your world for even a minute. But I care about you. You do what you need to do.” Moomintroll squeezed his arm with his paw gently, then pushed the blanket into his hold. “It’s finished.”

Snufkin pulled back and held the blanket up, unfolding it from the careful pile that Moomin had it in. The wool felt nice against his fingers, the size close to his height but twice his width. He could imagine curling up by the campfire in it, or tucked away in the corner of his tent, thinking about Moominvalley and Moomintroll, deep asleep in his hibernation. His expression softened from the worry that it had been knitted in since waking downstairs, a fond smile crossing his face as he folded it back up, cradling it like it was precious. “Thank you, love.” He tilted his head forward, pressing his nose to Moomin’s snout in the traditional troll way before kissing his cheek. “It looks like it’ll keep me toasty and warm, like your fur.”

Moomin’s tail wagged slightly, his ears flicking as his cheeks flushed, pleased as punch that his first knitting project was so well received. “I’m so glad you like it.”

“Very much so.” Snufkin smiled at him, then looked out the window again. “Would you mind terribly if I skipped our date tonight? I know I said about sleeping under the stars with you, but... I get the feeling if I don’t speak now I might not ever see him again.”

“I don’t mind.” Moomintroll gave his arm a squeeze with his hand again. “Just take care. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

It was the last day of autumn tomorrow, the day the Moomins went into hibernation. Snufkin wouldn’t miss seeing him off to sleep for the world.

\---

Snufkin kept the yellow woollen blanket folded in half over his shoulders the whole journey to the camp at the forest border, mulling things over in his head. What was he even going to say? He didn’t know. He thought that he’d known everything that he would ask his father if he ever met him, after finally meeting the Mymble that one time, but as he got older, he found that he didn’t care.

Had she not sent him down river, he might not have had the life that he did, the freedom to think what he wanted and do as he pleased. He had been bitter and resentful towards them at one stage, but had grown out of it with age. With all the children around her, the Mymble obviously had little time to deal with all of them at once, according to his sisters, and Snufkin honestly felt like he would have been stifled in that kind of environment, and now that he knew his father was the fae of winter, he knew why he hadn’t found him.

In a way, he was grateful.

He stopped just a few paces from the Joxter’s camp, hands curled in the blanket over his shoulders. From here he could feel the chill, breathing in air and blowing out frost. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but should they touch again, Snufkin was sure something would happen. He looked down at the ground, where the flowers that constantly followed him around rested at his feet, watching them wilt and wither but not die. Not fully.

During this moment of pondering, the Joxter crawled from his tent, fish in hand, and stood, looking at them and wondering what to do with it, tail swaying behind him. Used to the dead white of winter being his only surroundings, the fae spotted something green out the corner of his eye, turning his head to see his son lost in thought. He blinked in surprise, having not expected him so soon, and called out, snapping his son out of his thoughts. “Have I got your tongue?”

Snufkin snapped his head up, quite nearly enough to make him lose his balance and take a stumbled step back. “Pardon?”

“Have I got your tongue?” the Joxter patiently repeated himself, setting his fish down into the bucket near the campfire and placing his paws on his hips. “You know, since the normal adage is ‘cat got your tongue’ and...” He waved a paw. “What’s the use explaining it?”

Snufkin stared at him for a moment before tilting his head, coming closer to the campfire on the other side. “You mean I’m part cat?”

“What do you think mumriks were?” Joxter licked at the back of his paw as though demonstrating.

“Well, I suppose I didn’t know.” He looked away, scrunching up his nose. “Mother never really divulged information about you when I talked to her a couple of times, and my sisters didn’t know you well enough to discuss it.”

“We’re not really a cat in the traditional sense. Mumriks are far enough distantly related to be our own species, but close enough to be distinctively cat-like.” Blue eyes looked at him from the other side of the fire, Joxter’s brow creasing. “Although I suppose in your case, you’re only half.”

Snufkin hesitated a little before sitting down on the other log across from him, draping the blanket down and around his body, close enough to the fire to keep warm. He stared at the fire before speaking again, glancing over the flickering flames. “So you really are my father.”

“Aye.” Joxter inhaled and picked one of the fish up, skewering it on the end of a stick through the mouth and placing it into the fire to cook. “Only by blood, though. I won’t claim that I have any right to ask you to call me that.” A deafening silence dropped between them as he proceeded to do that for the rest of his fish, then cleared his throat as he turned the first. “Does Moomin take good care of you?”

Realising that he must have meant Moominpappa, Snufkin nodded, watching him intently. “They’ve given me more hospitality than I could ask for,” he said, feeling his throat clench but not from anything related to their magic clashing. “Even before I started dating their son.”

Joxter paused at that, his gaze flickering to his son with slight surprise. “Good for you,” he said slowly, poking the fire with a free stick and drawing coals from the bottom over the top of his fish. “I’m glad you have someone that cares about you.”

“What happened between you and mother?”

“Just too different.” He drew the stick back, poking the tip against his index finger. “Joxters, mumriks in particular, are meant to travel, never staying in one place at a time. Mymbles, on the other hand, need more than one lover. Both insatiable but for different things.”

“But the forest king...Tapio declared you mates...”

Joxter waved his paw. “Old wives tale. Tapio has no say over who is coupled with who any less than anyone else. Besides, I wouldn’t have obeyed it even if it was true. What, has Mymble been telling fibs?”

Snufkin looked down at his feet, where chrysanthemums were beginning to curl around his boots. “I’m not sure what’s genuine and what’s not. I only know what the tale has said.”

“Hm.” Joxter said nothing further on the subject, reaching to turn the rest of the fish over. “I’m glad you came to see me.”

“I wanted to. I...” Snufkin swallowed, burying his cheek into the side of the blanket around his shoulder as he glanced to the forest. “I know about the mymble side of my family. I’ve never known my mumrik side.” He looked, finally, at the Joxter. “I want to know about you.”

Joxter looked at him in turn, a smile crossing his face as he picked up a stick, offering it. “Fish?”

“Thank you.”

They talked long into the night, Snufkin never once feeling like he was going to pass out, and the Joxter feeling the unknown ache in his heart lift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say, thank you to EVERYONE for your continued support and reviews, kudos and hits. Even if you only read this for like, half a second, it feels like I’m getting a hang on Moomins voices enough to continue writing for this fandom. I hope y’all enjoyed this chapter <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flowers that bloomed in his wake weren’t scrunched down afterwards like they would have been in previous years, instead they blossomed beautifully, shining like the sun against the melting snow. Crocus, Lily of the Valley, Daffodil, and more trailed behind him in a litany of colour. He came to a stand still, looking up at the tree tops, before reaching into his pocket for his harmonica.

“Do you have everything?”

Snufkin looked over his pack as he secured his bedroll and tent to the top, rummaging around through the pack as Moomintroll stood beside him. Clean drinking water for a few days, mamma’s jam and bread that would last him a bit if he stretched it, line and tackle for his fishing rod that was pulled apart inside for easy packing, a pair of fresh clothes but nothing much else. The yellow knitted blanket that Moomin had made for him rested on top of everything, folded neatly like a protective barrier.

“I think so. If I don’t I can always pick up something along the way in one of the towns south.” Buckling the pack up again, Snufkin stood from his kneeling position, glancing to Moomintroll.

The last day of autumn was here, and Moominvalley had woken up to a thin layer of frost and fog rolling in from the hills around the Lonely Mountains and beyond. Snufkin had made it back late last night after a long talk with his father, and so had decided to stay at his campsite rather than crawl up the ladder into Moomintroll’s room. While mamma and pappa were busy putting the dust covers on everything, Moomin had come down to the riverbank to help his boyfriend pack.

“So were you able to talk to him last night?” Moomintroll asked, tone gentle as though to reassure Snufkin that he didn’t have to talk about it if he didn’t want to.

“Yeah.” Snufkin wrapped his fingers around the straps of his pack, looking off to the edge of the forest where he knew the Joxter’s camp was. “We talked. Not about anything in particular but it...it’s nice. To know about the other side of me.”

A relieved look crossed Moomintroll’s face when he heard that, his ears flicking and tail moving behind his legs. “I’m so glad to hear that,” he said, reaching to squeeze one of Snufkin’s paws with his own. While he was bursting at the seams to ask what they had talked about, it was up to Snufkin whether or not he decided to divulge the information. He’d already shared so much of his life, it would be selfish to ask this more of him.

“Are you ready to hibernate?” Snufkin asked, returning the squeeze and turning them around, beginning to lead him back to the house.

“Mamma picked pine needles yesterday.” Moomintroll scrunched his nose, the wrinkles appearing in the fur across the bridge of his snout. “I know it’s traditional hibernation food but like, couldn’t it be put into pancakes or something?”

Snufkin laughed softly at his boyfriend’s quiet complaining, patting the paw in his. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to eat pine needles to prepare for hibernation. D...Joxter said that we don’t necessarily hibernate, but there might be some part of the mymble in me that wants to.” He looked at Moomintroll, relieved that he’d stopped himself from saying that word. He wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to call the Joxter “father” or “dad” or anything like that. It was too premature. “Of course, I still need to travel south to bring the spring, so whether or not I feel like hibernating is beyond the point.”

“And I still can’t go with you? Even though I know...everything?”

“Nay, love.” Snufkin twined their fingers, rubbing at the soft fur under his thumb. “I don’t think I could risk the forest king catching sight of you.”

“Oh? Do you think something terribly bad would happen if he does? C’mon, give me a reason.”

“Not unless you want to be part of a bacchanal style orgy with half a dozen strangers.”

Moomin’s ears turned pink as Snufkin reached into his pocket for his pipe, lighting it and taking a puff, his mouth closing at that. They flicked atop his head, his free paw going up to scratch at his cheek. “N-no...no I don’t quite think I’d like that.” Was that what his father had referred to as the forest king’s ‘party’? No wonder Moominpappa had kept the details light.

“Besides, I’m a bit selfish, Moomintroll. To want you all to myself,” he murmured, tilting his head closer to nudge his nose into the fur of his neck. Moomin let out a squeak of a noise, his tail curling in surprise at the sudden forwardness.

“Are you alright, dear?”

Mamma’s voice caused Moomintroll to snap his head up, blinking at her owlishly where she was serving tea on the back verandah, his expression relaxing as Snufkin pulled away, looking rather smug. “Nothing, mamma.”

Moominpappa looked up from his game of chess with the Joxter, who was perched on his chair with his feet on the edge, tail swaying behind him as he contemplated his next move. As Moominmamma sat his cup of tea down, the winter fae looked up, smiled smugly, and swiped his paw across the board, effectively upsetting the game.

“Hey!” Pappa stood from his seat as chess pieces scattered, clattering across the verandah, and placed his hands on the table, tail lashing. “Now what was that for? Were you that sore that I was winning?”

The Joxter shrugged and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and reaching for his cup of tea, cradling it in both paws. “Reflex,” he said, taking a sip. The coughed laughter made him turn his attention to his son, watching him and the younger Moomin begin laughing as a light snowfall began drifting over Moominvalley, the sound heralding the true arrival of winter.

\---

Snufkin shouldered his pack and walked along a familiar forest path, tail moving behind him and paws tightening in grip at the thought of seeing his beloved Moomintroll after a three month absence from his life. Things would get easier over time, he figured, for just like seasons changed, so did people, and fae folk, though they would be less inclined to agree.

The flowers that bloomed in his wake weren’t scrunched down afterwards like they would have been in previous years, instead they blossomed beautifully, shining like the sun against the melting snow. Crocus, Lily of the Valley, Daffodil, and more trailed behind him in a litany of colour. He came to a stand still, looking up at the tree tops, before reaching into his pocket for his harmonica.

A new spring tune had come to Moominvalley, a song light in his heart without the touches of sadness that had been to it in the years before. The sound of footfalls let him know that there was someone else in the forest, and Snufkin stopped playing, curling his paws around his mouth organ.

The Joxter came into view, standing just at the edge of the clearing. Truthfully he should have been gone ages ago, but the cushion in front of the fireplace in Moominhouse was just too comfortable a spot to move from much all winter, even just to throw another log of wood into it. He stopped walking when he saw his son, blue eyes blinking owlishly at him.

“Son.” He tilted the edge of his red hat at him, other paw wrapped around one of his pack straps.

“Dad.” Snufkin mimicked him in turn, smiling softly despite himself. “Just leaving?”

“I thought I’d better before winter overstayed its welcome,” he confessed, looking over his shoulder at the tall house in the middle of the valley. Joxter looked out the corner of his eye at the younger mumrik. “One season can’t stay in the same place as the other after all.”

“I suppose scientists would find it difficult to explain,” Snufkin said, his brow furrowing slightly, shifting his pack a little when one side got too heavy. “Did Moomintroll sleep all through winter this time?”

“Woke up once, maybe. Came downstairs to keep me company for a little while before he went back to sleep.” Joxter saw the look on his son’s face before shaking his head. “You can’t keep someone from what their own body clock says. He was lucky I was there I suppose, otherwise he might not have gone back.”

“How did you explain it to the Lady of the Cold?”

“Eh, we may be creatures of winter but we only vaguely enjoy each other’s company. She mostly leaves me alone after that one time.”

Snufkin wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he stopped himself, unsure if he really wanted to know. “What will you do now?”

“Head south of course.” Joxter gave him a lopsided smile. “Might try to find your mother. I’ve...had a bit of time to think things over.”

“Give her my best, will you?”

“Of course.”

With a nod to each other, father and son walked around each other and parted ways, one heading south, the other north through the forest, towards the warmth of home, the warmth of Moominhouse and Moominvalley.

———

_Moomintroll’s Guide to Fae Folk:_  
1\. Always give hospitality  
2\. Never offer a gift (they will be insulted)  
3\. Never say a slight against them (they will follow you around until you apologise, or curse you for the rest of your life)  
4\. Don’t catch the forest king’s eye unless you want to take part in something that you don’t want.  
5\. DO. NOT. EAT. FAERIE FOOD. EVER. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the end of that! Thanks to everyone for their support, kudos, reviews and just general comments that I’ve found scattered on tumblr. Reminder that you can find me there @genderfluidsnufkin.
> 
> Till next time!


End file.
